Spilled Milk
by MotherBound
Summary: Serial NessxLucas fanfic. Lucas gets invited to the newest Smash tourney and heads out from home, not knowing he's in for one crazy year.


Welp, hi there! It's been awhile since I've written fan-fiction, but after playing Mother 2 and 3 I just couldn't help myself. Set in Brawl because it's awesome =D Lots of Lucas drama in this here first chapter, but it's all only for the intro. We'll be getting into the action and lovey-dovey stuff over the next few chapters. Not to say there won't be more angsty scenes, that the just won't be the theme for most future installments.

Anyways, this story will eventually be containing boyxboy romance, in the form of NessxLucas(And who knows what else? o.o), so if that sorta thing or that particular pairing aren't your cup of tea, you might not wanna even start this thing. Also, warning: Mother 3 spoilers!

Alright, intro and disclaimer out of the way, let's get this thing rolling!

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The sun shone blissfully over Tazmily village and all of its inhabitants. The yellow glow shimmered and reflected from the tall, crumbling walls of Osohe Castle to the north and glittered like a sea of diamonds in the sands of Crescent Beach to the west. Bordered by cliffs on the ocean to the south and east, the place seemed to be tucked into its own little corner of paradise.

Every so often the shadow of an idle cloud or two cast itself over the small cluster of buildings, each showing loving and hard work in their construction. The trade winds made sure the clouds never stayed long, inevitably floating their way in the direction of where New Pork City once stood. Not that anyone in the tiny village remembered the place, with the exception of one. As far as the community knew, things had always been this way. Peaceful. Calm.

The one who remembered, a boy around thirteen years old, was standing in a graveyard near the ruined castle, the one everyone else seemed to think was part of Tazmily's ancient history. Its faux princess, Kumatora, was elsewhere on the island, meaning that aside from the graveyard's old caretaker, the boy had the immediate area to himself.

He sat on the grass near a cliff's edge, the only part of the cemetery that overlooked the ocean, staring at the two graves before him. The first had seen more traffic near it, evidenced by the trampled patches of grass that were starting to brown. Both were relatively new though, and just a glance at either one was enough to bring tears to the boy's eyes.

"_Wife of Flint. Mother of the twins Claus and Lucas. Daughter of Alec. May the beautiful Hinawa rest in peace here for all time," _read the older tombstone. The epitaph was done in typical Tazmily tradition, listing the known ancestry followed by some sorrowful farewell.

The other was not, yet it seemed much more fitting to the person it marked in the earth below. "_Here lies Claus, the true bringer of peace on the Nowhere Islands."_ Nobody else understood it. Lucas, the boy, had insisted on the enigmatic line though. His father hadn't argued, oddly enough, but Lucas figured that was due to the shock of seeing his dead son's body after searching for him for three long years.

Three years that his dad, and the rest of the village too, remembered as nothing more than normal, with the exception of the forest fire and freak drago attack that had ended in the death of his sibling and mother. No one remembered Porky, the pigmasks, or the eerie chimeras that had stalked the land during those strange times. Lucas did, and he knew why too, though he didn't talk about it with anyone. He supposed he could discuss it all with Leder, the bell-ringer, but the comically tall man had been as silent as ever since The Dragon had come up from beneath Nowhere.

"Hey Lucas!" a young voice said, startling him out of his memories. Standing and rubbing away the tears that had, as always, worked their way from his eyes, he turned from the graves. A boy a bit shorter than Lucas was leaning casually against a large rock, thin brown hair falling just short of his curious eyes. He was wearing the same outfit he always wore, a white t-shirt with red sleeves, shorts, and a pair of worn-in sneakers.

"Hi Fuel. You need something?" Lucas tried to keep a polite tone, but it was hard. He didn't like other people around him when he was here, even if it _was_ his best friend.

The other boy hesitated, like he'd decided not to say what he wanted to, then nodded. "Your dad wants you. He said you got mail from across the ocean!"

Lucas blinked. _Across the ocean? But…Isn't Nowhere suppose to be the only place left?_ Shaking his head, he realized Fuel was still talking.

"…ever gotten anything from across the ocean before. I mean, Pusher says he's got a few things that aren't from the islands, but I don't believe that crap." The energetic boy hesitated again. "W-will you let me see it after you're done Lucas? I wanna be able to say I've touched something from across the ocean!"

Barely even thinking about it, Lucas smiled and nodded, "Sure Fuel. Come by my place in a half hour or so. I kinda want to stay here a little longer."

The younger boy pumped a fist in the air. "Aweeessome! Thanks Lucas, I'll seeya then!" Fuel turned in a rush, as if to head back to the village, then stopped, swiveling to face his friend again.

It wasn't the hesitation that confused Lucas. Fuel was known for saying things impulsively. It was the abrupt change of expression from joy to solemnity. "Something you forgot?" Lucas asked.

The other boy shook his head, his eyes flicking briefly to the graves, then back to his best friend. After a few seconds of silence he finally said, "I miss hearing his voice. I…I miss him too Lucas." With that, he spun on his heel and fled towards the village.

Moisture pricked at the edge of Lucas' eyes, threatening to become a torrent. In a thoughtless daze, he made his way past the graves and sat on the grass bordering the cliff, letting his legs hang over the edge. As he gazed out over the endless blue of the ocean, something inside him broke, like it always did when he sat in this spot, and he let the tears fall.

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When he finally could cry no more, Lucas dried his eyes with the red and yellow-striped shirt he wore, stood, and started the short walk back to the village. Part of him was glad someone else besides his father and himself felt the loss of Claus' death. Discussion of either his mom or his brother never came up in the village. It was like talking of the dead impeded on the peaceful lives of Tazmily.

Another part was railing at Fuel though, for being so…insensitive? No, that wasn't quite right. _For making me cry_, he thought suddenly. Realizing this was true, he stared at the ground angrily and quickened his pace. Crying alone, next to mom and Claus was one thing, but the fact that someone else could still drive him to tears was irritating. He still had the embarrassing reputation of a crybaby in town, and events like this would only help confirm that.

Lucas kicked a rock as hard he could, ignoring the subsequent pain. It wasn't like Fuel would say anything, if he'd even seen his friend's tears. That wasn't the problem though. The event had simply brought up the resentment Lucas held towards the other villagers for their light-hearted teasing. _They've got no right!_ he thought, _After all I've done, all I've…sacrificed for them, I'm allowed to cry._ Of course, everyone else knew next to nothing of his losses.

Walking through the village square, he noticed with a hint of satisfaction that his grim demeanor made everyone that noticed him turn away. Well, almost everyone. Duster, the trained thief of Tazmily and one of Lucas' companions on his strange adventure, was perched on the well in the center of town. The quiet man ignored everyone except for Flint and Lucas, and to them he only ever nodded, as he did now.

Lucas returned the nod and continued on his way, frown slightly disappearing. Of all people, he wasn't sure that Duster had completely forgotten the events of the last three years. He hadn't exactly been lively or sociable before everything had happened, but he hadn't been a mute either. Now though, he just wandered aimlessly across the island, or stayed at home with his father, Wess.

If that wasn't suspicious enough, there was the time Lucas'd been walking home just after sunset, passing by Duster's place. Normally the home was silent and dark, save maybe a candle in the window. Lucas had stopped when he'd realized that the house wasn't silent that night, though one could barely tell. Walking as close as he had then dared to and straining his ears, he smiled when he finally recognized the noise. The deep and resonant strumming of an upright bass had made its muffled way to Lucas' ears. It was a rhythm the young boy recognized from when he'd first seen Duster, known as Lucky back then, play.

A loud and joyous bark interrupted Lucas' thoughts and he looked up to see his dog, Boney, bounding towards him. It was a bit startling that he'd passed by the rest of the village without even noticing, but he dismissed it. Today had been rough, and it was barely even noon. Despite that, his frown melted and formed up into a big grin as Boney ran up and began nuzzling and licking his outstretched hand. Using the other to pet the big canine and scratch behind his ears, Lucas couldn't help laughing a little. "What's up Boney? You're not normally this excited."

Boney barked in reply, tail wagging excitedly. Truth be told, the dog's greeting _was_ a little odd. Most days he could be found lazing about inside his dog house or playing with the sheep. Something must be going on inside the house for him to be worked up like this. As the two made their way up the path to the small house, Lucas saw why.

A man was standing next to the sheep pen, fiddling with some bit of machinery that was definitely not from the Nowhere Islands. The top hat he wore stood out on him, framing the scraggly blond beard on his face. The glasses he wore had the same effect, the almost mirrored surfaces giving him a slightly enigmatic look. Hearing Lucas approach, he looked up and stowed the odd device in the pocket of his suit jacket. He must have been uncomfortably warm in the three-piece, but he didn't show it.

Walking a few steps towards where Lucas had stopped, the stranger stuck out his hand with a grin. "Lucas I presume?"

Taking the offered hand and shaking it hesitantly, Lucas nodded. "W-who are you?" He kicked himself mentally, still unable to help stuttering when he was uncomfortable.

"Ah, me?" a wistful look crossed the man's face as he let go of Lucas' hand, "I am…was, a renowned photographer. Now I am just a simple mail man, it seems."

"I'm sorry." It was an instinctive reply. He really had no clue what a…photographer, or whatever, was, but he could hear the voice's pain.

The newcomer shrugged. "I'm alive, and I suppose that's enough. Anyways, I suggest you go inside and see what the letter I delivered has to say. I'll be waiting out here for your answer." With that, he returned to the sheep pen, perching himself on one of the bars and pulling the strange device (A photograph maybe?) from his pocket once more. Boney followed curiously, nuzzling his leg, and was received with a smile and several pets.

Lucas couldn't help blinking in confusion for a few moments. This was all just _too_ weird. He shook his head as he walked up to the door and turned the knob that didn't quite fit. "Dad, I'm back!" he called when he entered and found the front room empty.

Almost immediately Flint came out from the bedroom, a folded paper in his hands. Tugging at the same cowboy hat he always wore(To hide his baldness, Lucas had discovered on his adventure), he gave his son a solemn look. "Have a look at this," he said gruffly, handing the letter to Lucas, "And I want you to read it carefully."

The boy wasn't sure he wanted to. The last time something strange and new had come to Tazmily, he'd lost half his family. Dad seemed to be okay with this though. Taking a deep breath, he unfolded the message, noting the crumbling remains of a wax seal. The hand-writing was elegant, as if the writer took pride in it, and the black ink glistened as if still wet. He read:

_**To Lucas, inhabitant of Tazmily Village, of the Nowhere Islands:**_

_**Greetings! I realize this may be coming to you a bit unexpectedly, for which I apologize. However, it has been brought to my attention that you are in possession of several unique powers and a large amount of strength and intelligence. With this in mind I would like to inform you of a certain competition I put on every year. It is a gathering of the most powerful, intelligent, charismatic, and wise fighters in the known universe. Bear that in mind as I inform you that you, Lucas, have been invited to this tournament, known this year as Super Smash: Brawl! I, and others, feel you would be extremely competitive and well-received here, both as a friend and a contestant. It's the perfect place to have fun and meet new people! And of course, you don't have to worry about injury or worse. Thanks to our time-tried Stock System, at the end of every fight you'll feel as good as new! **_

_**As to the details, the event lasts exactly one year from the last day of this month. Should you accept, transportation will immediately be arranged and we'll be seeing you within a few hours or so. If you decide not to attend, your spot will be filled with no option of reneging. Please note that all housing, food, and entertainment will be provided for, free of cost. Ah, and I've forgotten to mention winnings! Rest assured that everyone will receive good payment for their participation, but the ultimate victor will receive a grand prize beyond his or her…or its(**_This part was squished in between the other words, as if an afterthought)_** comprehension.**_

_**Well, you've read my proposal Lucas, and now it's time for you to decide. Are you up for a game of Smash?**_

_**Regards,**_

_**Master Hand**_

He read the letter over three times, only becoming more confused with each iteration. "What do you think?" he asked his father slowly, still staring at the letter.

"I think it'd be good for you. Here me out now," he said swiftly when Lucas' head snapped up in surprise, "You've been talking less and less to everyone. Only Fuel really seems to know what's going on in your head. Maybe Duster too, not that he'd say a damn word about it." Lucas cringed as his father swore. It wasn't something the old-timer did very often, which meant there were some ill-harbored feeling towards Duster somewhere in there.

Flint shook his head. "Anyways, I see you falling into the same pit I did when Hi…your mother passed away. And you know what it took to pull me out of that." Lucas did know, and judging by the strange glint in his father's eyes, he suddenly wasn't so sure that he was the only one that remembered everything.

"I'm fine dad, really. Besides, I don't want to fight people to take my mind off of Claus," he felt some sort of morbid satisfaction when his father flinched at the name, "I don't want to forget him." The words eerily were frighteningly similar to Fuel's.

"I'm not saying I want you to," Flint sighed, a bit exasperated, "I just think it'd be good for you to go and meet some new people, and maybe try and win whatever prize it is they're offering. It sounds like _fun_ Lucas, and I haven't seen you have fun since…" He trailed off, though the boy knew the sentence's last word. _Claus._

He returned to staring at the invitation for a moment, his mind in turmoil. He hated meeting people he didn't know. Well, he was afraid of them to be specific. But his dad was right, he hadn't done so much as gone out and play tag with Fuel for almost three years. _Some best friend I am,_ he thought bitterly. He finally said, voice wavering, "I don't know dad, I…"

Flint put a hand on his son's shoulder, in that same comforting manner he always had. The grip had a way of forcing Lucas to meet his eyes. "Fight for yourself. Don't pretend you wouldn't like seeing how your…powers compare to others," Lucas' eyes widened at this. He hadn't used PSI powers since he'd pulled the needle. His father continued, "But go for Claus, Lucas. You know he wouldn't want you to sit around his grave for the rest of your life. This could be just what you need. And even if it's not, nothing's keeping you from coming back home."

Tears welled up in the boy's eyes once more and he averted his gaze to the ground. Wiping the moisture away, he replied, his voice surprisingly steady, "Okay dad, I'll go."

Flint pulled Lucas into a hug and rubbed his back. "Thatta boy. I'll pack you a bag, you go give your answer." It was almost painful hearing the relief in his father's tone.

Nodding, Lucas walked out in a daze, stopping in front of the suited man. Looking up briefly from his machine, the photographer caught one look at the boy's face and grinned. "Looks like I better call our ride, am I right?"

Lucas nodded. "I-I'm in." He fidgeted.

That stupid stutter again.

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Woo! Lucas is gonna go kick some ass! And it looks like Flint remembers at least some of what happened...And who knows about Duster? Wonder if I'll ever end up developing that further on in this fic.

But yeah, this is my weird little interpretation on what happened after Lucas pulls the seventh needle and the Nowhere Islands go up in flames. This I WILL explain in time.

Anyways, hope you guys like it so far, thanks for reading!


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